


100 Theme Challenge - Rickyl/Leedus Edition

by JeromeSankara, lynna21



Category: The Walking Dead (TV), The Walking Dead RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Canonical Child Abuse, Everyone Is Gay, Fluff, Friendship/Love, Gay Male Character, M/M, One Shot, One Shot Collection, Rickyl Writers' Group
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-19
Updated: 2018-03-19
Packaged: 2019-04-04 13:11:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14020977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JeromeSankara/pseuds/JeromeSankara, https://archiveofourown.org/users/lynna21/pseuds/lynna21
Summary: A series of one-shots chosen from 100 random themes.They will all be Walking Dead or Walking Dead RPF related, and will feature our dear boys Rick/Andrew and Daryl/Norman. Enjoy the random fluff/angst adventure!





	100 Theme Challenge - Rickyl/Leedus Edition

**Author's Note:**

> Rick has just one goal on his mind: he wants to make Daryl smile.

There was an unspoken rule at my high school. Don't mess with Dixons. Even though Merle had to be at least nine years older than me, he’d still been held back so many times that the teachers were still whispering about him, and shaking their heads in disgust.

 

It wasn't hard to think that the same reputation would carry over onto the younger of the two Dixons. When we were kids, Daryl always was the lone wolf. Always tucked himself in the corner, back to the wall, unable to look anyone in the eye, sort of like a wounded animal. That didn't change much as we got older. If anything, it got worse. With Merle still fresh in their minds, teachers brushed him off, or ignored him, and the sad thing was that Daryl let them. Even sadder than that was everyone thinking it was normal. I thought it was, too, at first.

I tried not to be one of  _ those _ kids. With all the other crap we have to deal with, who needs the added worry of someone wanting to beat your ass, just ‘cause you’re different? I probably wouldn’t have given Daryl a chance either, if it hadn’t been for the flat tire I got on my way home sometime during the middle of my Junior year.

I spent probably ten minutes kicking the shit out of my stupid, fix-er-up Ford. My dad had sworn we’d overhaul it together, but surprise, surprise, The Chief was always too busy. Once I got over my fit, I started walking. 

Living sort of out in the middle of nowhere had its benefits, but easy access to service stations wasn’t one of them. And in those days, cell phones weren’t nearly as common as they are now. So, yeah. Walking.

When I passed by the little pond on the edge of our property, my eye caught on something red sticking out of the brush that lined the opposite bank. I moved closer, and there was Daryl. He had his back to me, and he was talking in a low voice to something I couldn’t see, but when he tilted his head just a little, whatever it was ceased to matter in the slightest. 

He was smiling. A full blown, eyes crinkled at the corners, teeth sparkling in the sunlight, knock you out  _ gorgeous, _ smile.

After I picked my jaw up off the dusty road, I decided my new mission in life was to make Daryl Dixon aim that smile at me.

I couldn't do anything that day, because surely Daryl wouldn't care much for me interrupting whatever he was doing down there, but I already was setting out a plan. When school started the next morning, I would try to poke my way into his diamond-hard bubble.

First period was math, because apparently the school was run by the devil. There should be a rule that anything involving a lot of thinking shouldn’t take place until you’ve been awake for at least three hours. I didn't sit very close to Daryl, so I used that period to observe. I had always taken his quietness as his lack of attention, but he didn't get distracted by  _ anything. _ His eyes were always on the board. 

My opportunity didn't come until lunch. Daryl was the embodiment of the high school loner cliche. He sat alone. He would be the last to sit down and the first to leave. 

This time, though, I moved in.

Ignoring Shane’s shouted questions and complaints about bypassing our regular table, I made my way over to Daryl's little corner. Though, when the eyes I’d seen, so filled with warmth yesterday, turned to chips of ice as they glared at me, I just about turned around and ran back.

“Uh, hi?” I inwardly winced. Not a good intro, Rick, not fucking good. Are you a five year old? Use your words, for god’s sake. Looking back over my shoulder and seeing Shane's incredulous gaze on me, I sucked up my courage and looked back to Daryl. “Do you mind if I sit with you?”

Daryl narrowed his eyes, and scowled. “Yeah.”

“Why?”

He just scowled at me again, gathered up his pathetically small lunch, and stomped off without another word.

Huh. So the direct approach wasn’t going to work. I should have known. Taking my tray back over to my regular table, I settled across from Lori Bryant. She’d been giving me some pretty over the top flirty looks lately, but I figured if I ignored her long enough she’d get over it. Maybe Shane and her could hook up. I’ve seen him looking her up and down a few times. Better him than me.

I got a fist to the shoulder as soon as I sat down, and Shane looked like his eyes were about to bulge out of his skull.

“The fuck you go over and talk to Dixon for? He’s a loser. My dad says that the Dixons don't even know how to read, ‘cause they’re all inbred.” Shane let out a loud laugh, and held up his hand for a high five.

I just turned my head, and god help me, focused on Lori. “So, Lori. How’re you doing with that paper we got assigned in Ms. Ayres class? Pick a topic yet?”

By the time lunch was over, I knew way too much about the importance of finding out if woodpeckers ever got headaches, and the detailed plans Lori had made to find out.

Since that day was a bust, I had hopes that the next would be a little less… sucky. I knew better than to approach him during lunch, so instead I waited until P.E. It was a risk, being at the end of the day and all, but at least then Daryl wouldn't be walking around pissed off at me all day.

We split up into groups to play basketball that day, and try as I might, I couldn't work my way over to Daryl without it being obvious. Mostly because of Shane was constantly blocking my exit route. And he was acting like he was doing me a favor.

And so he ruined my chance  _ during  _ class. Once we hit the locker room, I tried again.

Daryl would always go to the enclosed stalls to use the shower. It was strange, since most of the guys didn't really care other than the occasional ‘my dick is bigger’ contest. Maybe Daryl had a small dick. I dunno. Didn't really matter that much, but the others would probably use that as a reason to pick on him more than they already did.

I took my time in changing, always keeping the shower stalls in the corner of my eye. Since it was the last class of the day, some of my classmates would purposefully stay late to use the shower. Probably jerk off, too. Gross. Didn’t they have perfectly good homes to do that in?

Shuddering at the thought of walking in on Shane, or any of my other classmates, mid-jerk, I avoided the end of the locker room he tended to stay on. Thank god there were stalls on both sides, and thanks times  _ two _ that Daryl preferred the opposite side.

I tapped my foot impatiently while I waited for Daryl to come out of the stall. He didn’t usually take this long. I’d rushed through my own shower just hoping that I’d catch him.

When he slammed open the stall door, I was treated to another full blown Dixon glare. I’ll admit, I felt a part of me shrivel up a little. That stare is potent!

“The fuck you want, asshole? Got nothin’ better to do than stand around outside of a shower stall? Lookin’ for someone to suck you off or somethin’?”

I grinned. “Well, if you’re offering, I wouldn’t mind.”

I didn’t know it was possible, but his eyes got even colder when I said that, and once again, he stomped past me. It wasn’t quite as intimidating as his lunchroom stomp. Maybe it was because of the bare feet.

Following after him, I couldn’t help but smile. Maybe I had lost my chance for the day, but a barefoot and slightly damp Daryl was a helluva sight to see. Worth it.

So, maybe third time would be the charm. That's usually how it worked in movies or in video games. You know, hit the boss three times and knock it out, all that fun stuff. I didn't want to  _ actually  _ knock him out, but I digress.

This time, I started before school did. Daryl always was there early. He’d normally sit against the wall in the lobby and do things with a notepad. Maybe he was doodling, maybe he was homework, maybe he was drawing boobs everywhere. All around, I’d say those were pretty fair guesses.

Walking over to the vending machine, I bought a chocolate milk. Checking the clock, I saw I had about fifteen minutes before the first bell rang, telling kids to start getting to their first class. Hopefully I wouldn’t need any longer.

For once, Daryl didn't see me coming. He was too involved with his notebook. But maybe it wouldn't the best idea to surprise him by plopping down on the floor just a foot away. I approached him cautiously. Didn’t want to spook him, after all. 

“Hey, Daryl,” I said, sitting down on the edge of one of the school’s decorative planters, juggling the chocolate milk from hand to hand. “Whatcha doin’?”

He didn’t even glance up. “Fuck off, Grimes.”

“Come on. I brought you breakfast!”

I thought I caught a glimpse of his blue eyes through the shaggy bangs that hung across his forehead, but it was gone to quickly for me to be sure.

“Ate already.”

“There’s always room for chocolate milk,” I said, holding out the small carton, and wiggling it enticingly.

“M’not gonna be your project, man, just fuck off back to your asshole friends.”

“They’re all busy. I feel like bugging you.”

Daryl eyed me warily. “If I take the damn milk, will you go away?”

“Yes,” I grinned, triumphant.

Daryl snatched the carton out of my hand, and scowled at me. “I took it. Now leave.”

I shrugged my shoulders. “Don’t feel like it right now. I’ll leave later.”

I could practically feel the irritation rolling off Daryl’s body in waves, and a little piece of me died with that glare. He didn't say anything. Just stared at the carton with narrowed eyes, then started fumbling with the opening.

After a few long seconds, I could see his frustration building. His hands were almost too large to properly pull open the tabs. Just as his teeth started to grit together and his shoulders tensed up, I stepped in.

“They're tricky,” I said calmly, delicately taking the carton out of his hands. Daryl nearly snatched it back with a deep scowl, but refrained himself.

Looking over the carton, I managed to find a little section and pulled open the tab. I placed it back into his outstretched hand, and even though all I received was a grunt, it was enough thanks for me.

Placing my elbows on my knees, I watched as Daryl pulled the opening even wider, tilted his head back, and downed nearly the entire carton in one swift motion. It was kinda impressive.

Daryl set down the nearly empty carton and picked up his pencil, and after curling his legs tighter to his chest to try to hide his notepad from me, resumed whatever he’d been doing before I interrupted.

Unable to hold back my curiosity, I craned my neck to try to get a better look at whatever he was doing.

My eyes widened at the image that was taking shape on the page. “Wow, Daryl. You drawing those from experience?” I asked, eyes roaming over the extremely well endowed woman on the page.

Daryl sighed, and flipped the cover closed. “Are you gonna keep bothering me every day?”

“Yep. This is my life now.”

Shoving the notebook into a backpack that looked like it had seen better days, Daryl hopped to his feet. “If you don’t leave me be, I’m gonna shoot you in the balls with a bolt from my crossbow.”

I tilted my head to the side. “Is it the kind with the little suction cup arrows? ‘Cause that probably wouldn’t be too bad.”

Daryl leaned in, chocolate milk scented breath wafting over my nose. “The kind I use to hunt with. Sharper than anything you ever laid your hands on.”

I blinked. Wow. A hunter. The idea of Daryl swinging around a crossbow, stealthily threading his way through bushes and wilderness, shooting arrows into squirrels and other woodland creatures…

“Are you one of those survival guys? Like, go out and climb a mountain and just eat whatever you catch, have to drink your own piss, that kinda stuff?” I said, a grin growing across my face. I knew there was something interesting about Daryl.

He’d always seemed so…mysterious. So  _ distant  _ to the rest of the world. And while that chased most other people away, it only drew me in. I liked a challenge, after all. And Daryl seemed like he was worth the work. 

“What? No! Who the hell drinks their own piss? That’s disgusting.”

I shrugged. “I saw something on TV about some guy that did it.”

Daryl eyed me up and down, a frown tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You’re fuckin’ strange, Grimes. Anybody ever tell you that?”

“No,” I grinned, winking at him. “My mommy tells me I’m a handsome boy, though.”

At the word mommy, Daryl’s slowly relaxing posture stiffened up again, and he let out an animalistic sounding growl. Seconds later, he and his ratty backpack disappeared around the corner.

“Okay. Maybe third time isn’t the charm, after all,” I mused, still determined to see that smile again. Not just see it, but be the  _ reason _ for it. Oh well. I’ve blown today’s chance, time to start planning for tomorrow.

The day was halfway through when I realized that I  _ might  _ have fucked up more than just my third chance. Probably my fourth. And my fifth.

Hell, lucky number seven wasn't looking too hot either, because after third period, Daryl was gone. He didn't come to lunch. He wasn’t in any of the classes we had together. 

Shane and Lori didn't seem to notice, but I kept looking over my shoulder to try and spot him  _ anywhere _ .

Daryl didn't miss school very often. Well, that was sort of a lie. He didn't just miss one day _. _ When he was gone, he was typically gone for at least a week. I didn't even know how he was still passing his classes. Shane thought that maybe the Dixons all went on a trip to get drugs, or moonshine, or both, and Lori just shrugged.

I didn't want this to be one of those times.

When he didn't come back by the end of the day, I had to change my plans. Maybe  _ I  _ needed to come to  _ him. _

And so I started circling around the pond after school. It was the only place I knew for sure he went. Sometimes, at least. I would check in the morning, and then at night. I found nothing the first few days. Not even signs that he had been in the area like muddy tracks by the edges of the lake.

But on the fifth night, on my way home from school, I found him again.

He was sitting on the shoreline, a crossbow resting by his side. When he heard me coming, his shoulders stiffened a little, but he didn’t move. “What d’you want? Don’t bother me enough at school?”

I dropped my backpack on the sand, and sat down on it. “Why haven’t you been coming? ‘Cause of me?”

He snorted. “Don’t make yourself out to be more important than you actually are.” Throwing a rock into the water, Daryl looked at me from under his bangs. “I jus’ needed a break, s’all.”

Cocking my head to the side, I was about to say something extremely witty, and not cheesy at all, when his stomach growled loudly enough that I could hear it from several feet away.

“Don’t you ever eat?”

Daryl flushed, and bounced a clump of dirt off my leg. “I eat. Jus’... Haven’t been home in a couple days. Tryin’ to lay low for a while.”

I reached into my bag, and pulled out the bag of Gardetto’s that I’d bought from some girls trying to raise money for their club. “Here,” I said, tossing them his way. “The French Club kids are starting to get pretty militant in their sales approach. I felt like I had to buy those, or they’d guillotine me.”

Daryl's eyes snapped to the bag that had landed maybe an inch or two away from him, then looked back at me. With unnecessarily slow movements, he reached down and picked it up, turning it over in his hands. At least he didn't put up a fight this time.

“Kinda what the French do,” he muttered under his breath, turning the bag in his hands again and setting it down onto his lap. As he worked to open it up, I stole a glance at his crossbow.

He wasn't lying. The thing was  _ huge _ , and it had plenty of arrows attached to it, as well. They all looked sharp and could probably kill pretty easy. It left a sick feeling in my gut, and I couldn't stop the words from tumbling out. “You're not, like, in  _ trouble  _ or something, right? Like, that's not…” I vaguely motioned to the bow.

“What, gonna sick yer Pa on me?” Daryl muttered, not bothering to look up. “Not that sorta trouble.” His hands paused, body stiffened, but continued to work on the bag a moment later as if nothing had happened. As if he hadn't just told me something important.

Which… it kinda sounded like he had.

“You, uh…” Since Daryl's eyes weren’t currently burning into my body, I took a chance, and shifted a little closer, closing some of the gaping distance between us. I cleared my throat. Maybe Daryl didn't want to talk about this stuff.

Trying to cover up the awkward silence with a cough, I glanced back out to the lake. “Hey. What's the most important fish in the sea?”

Furrowing his brow, Daryl thought about it for a minute. He shrugged his shoulders, and grunted. “A swordfish?”

“A starfish!” Even though I knew I was running the risk of getting punched for such a bad pun, I laughed anyway. Before I even let Daryl so much as open his mouth, I continued.

“If you got anymore fish jokes, let minnow, Daryl!”

“You’re such a dork. You tell them kinda jokes to your friends?”

I grinned. “Sometimes.”

“And they still let you hang out with them?”

“We’ve been shoved together since we were kids. We live on the same street, and our parents all hang out.” I tilted my head to the side, and grinned again. “Why didn’t the toilet paper cross the road?”

“Oh for fucks- Okay, Grimes.  _ Why _ didn't the toilet paper cross the road?”

Barely managing to hold back my snicker, I said, “Because it got stuck in a crack.”

There was a long strand of silence between us, then Daryl made some sort of noise. It was low, and sounded more like a croak than anything else. 

“That one was better. Still shit, but better quality shit.”

“If this one doesn’t make you laugh, I’ll walk away and never bother you again. Deal?”

Glancing back at me from the corner of his eyes, Daryl squinted, probably wondering if this was some sort of trick. “What the hell are you up to, Grimes?”

I kicked at a pebble, watching it bounce up and hit Daryl on the knee. “Deal?” I pressed.

Groaning softly under his breath, Daryl let his head fall forward again and stared at the dirt. “Fine. Deal. Get on with it.”

“Okay, get ready to laugh like you’ve never laughed before. What do you call bees that produce milk?”

“Fucking what?” Daryl sighed.

Letting out a little snicker, I cupped my hands around my chest, and yelled, “Boob-bees!”

…. _ snort. _

Daryl stiffened up beside me, and turned his body in a desperate attempt to not face me, but I had already heard it. Daryl pressed his hand against his mouth, and his shoulders were twitching.

“... _ pfft _ .”

I took advantage of Daryl facing away from me to do a little victory dance. Hands held up in the air and everything. “I am the champion! I knew all the stupid jokes I taught myself would come in handy someday!”

“That doesn't fucking count!” Daryl groaned loudly, still refusing to look back at me. He was practically curled in on himself, but I could see the tips of his ears starting to turn red. “It's so stupid, c’mon!”

“It totally counts! I made you laugh!”

The embarrassed look on Daryl’s face was so fucking cute, I just couldn’t help myself. Moving in closer, not even thinking of the black eye, or split lip my actions were almost  _ guaranteed _ to give me, I lightly kissed Daryl’s cheek.

I pulled back quickly, belatedly thinking about how bony Daryl’s knuckles were, and how sharp the tips of his bolts looked.

Daryl’s body turned to stone right before my eyes, and while I expected him to lash out at me with his fists, he did something worse. Pulling himself up to his feet in a less than graceful manner, Daryl grabbed at the crossbow sitting at his side. Before I could tell him that I was sorry, or even take another breath, the tip of a bolt was pointed directly between my eyes.

“Who set you up t’do this,” he growled, his voice deep and low. “I ain't falling for that shit twice! Cough it up! Merle? Pa? Fuckin’  _ who? _ ”

“Jesus, Daryl! I don't know your dad or Merle, okay? I thought you looked fuckin’ cute all red and embarassed. Don't shoot me for it!”

“I ain't  _ cute _ ,” Daryl hissed, adjusting his hands on the bow. Shit, he wasn't joking. I could see his finger touching the trigger. Was he actually thinking of  _ shooting  _ me?! “Ya just happen ta’ notice me now, after we've been in school together for  _ years.  _ What changed. Huh? Felt  _ sorry  _ for me? I done told ya, I ain't your  _ project _ !”

My eyes were crossing trying to keep the bolt in focus, but felt like if I looked away I'd take a bolt to the face. “I only told my friends I was bisexual like a month ago, and I never knew that the tips of your ears turned red when you were embarrassed, so fucking sue me for thinking you were cute! Just don't shoot me for thinking it. Please?”

His muscles tensed as I spoke, icy blue eyes narrowing down the line of sight where the bolt would sink into my skull. He scoffed sharply. “I ain't gonna have you fuckin’ around with me. ‘m not a faggot.” I winced at that word, if only from the pure venom it was laced with as it fell from Daryl’s lips. But there was the tiniest tremble at the tip of the bolt, and Daryl moved his finger to rest behind the trigger instead of against it.

I let out a loud sigh of relief when his finger moved, wiping a hand across the sweat that had sprung up on my forehead. “I'm not fucking with you. In all the years we've gone to school together, have I ever done anything like that? To anyone? No. I wouldn't start doing that with you, either. You can kick my ass to easily.”

I didn't think it was possible, but Daryl's eyes narrowed even more. So much that I couldn't even see the blue anymore. His teeth clicked together as he scowled, then dropped the bow to his side. Grabbing at the strap, Daryl slung it over his shoulder and turned away. But then he stopped maybe three paces away from me.

“Why’re ya’ wastin’ yer time with me?” he muttered, his voice turning more quiet and less of a threat.

Discarding all the reasons my brain was trying to get me to shove out of my mouth, I decided to go with the simple and honest truth. “I saw you here. About a week ago when I was walking home. You had this smile on your face, and it just…” I shook my head. I couldn't find the right words to explain it. “I just wanted to have you smile at me like that. Really bad. Haven't been able to stop thinking about it.”

“You better start trying.”

Daryl looked over his shoulder back at me, and for just a moment, I could see past the harsh and rigid exterior that encased him, shielding him from me and the rest of our class. From anyone, truthfully. And what I was met with was just… a sucking black hole of emptiness.

He shook his head, severing our connection. “No reason t’smile like that no more.”

“What were you smiling at that day then?”

“Not really any of your business, is it?”

I shook my head, and said, “No. But I'm still asking.”

Daryl stared at me for a long moment before his shoulders slumped. “Was a letter my momma wrote me. She died a month ago. Cancer. Found it stuffed ‘tween my mattress and the wall.”

My heart stilled in my chest, and I felt an ache that I hadn't endured for years. I was pretty lucky with my family. The only person I remember losing was my great-grandpa. But losing your mother?

“I-I’m sorry, I didn't… You didn't tell anyone. You kept coming to classes…” I trailed off, unsure what I was trying to say. How could Daryl endure a loss like that and  _ still  _ just… function? Act like everything was normal?

“Didn't have nothin’ better to do. No sense sittin’ around my house all day doin’ nothin’. Just make me think about her more. Miss her more.”

A thousand questions were running through my head at once, but all I could hear was the one screaming that I needed to do something. Help him.  _ Somehow.  _ Even if Daryl wasn't close to me, or close to anyone, he was hurting. “That's why you came down here?” I thought aloud, looking back to the pond.

Daryl just shrugged, dropping his eyes to his crossbow. “One a’ the reasons, I guess.”

“Look, Daryl, if you want me to, I’ll stop with the flirty stuff. _ I  _ don’t really want to, but I guess if it makes you uncomfortable...” I shrugged one shoulder, and smiled at him. “I’m not going to stop trying to be your friend, though. You’re going to have to get used to that.”

Daryl huffed, staring down at the ground and running his boot across the dirt, kicking a rock into the water. “Don't know why you gotta. No one's makin’ ya. Could just go back to your friends ‘n shit.

“Don’t want to.” I could tell Daryl was ready for the floor to be jerked out from under him at any second. Trying to reassure him probably wouldn’t do any good. I could try, though. “I want to get to know you. Maybe you can teach me how to hunt. I went with my dad once, and he banished me back to the car after an hour. Said I made too much noise.”

Daryl grunted under his breath, still staring at the ground. “You drag your damn feet,” he muttered, pointing the crossbow at my feet. Daryl turned himself slightly, standing to the side. Almost like he was bracing himself, not allowing his back or front to be exposed.

Clearing his throat, Daryl continued. “Gonna change yer mind. Gonna get tired.”

“If I get tired we can do something else that’s not so exhausting.” I took a chance, and sent him a wink. “Maybe we could lay down for a while, or something like that.”

“That's not what I mean, Grimes-”

“Rick.”

Daryl blinked. He squinted, something I've started to realize he does quite a lot of, then shook his head. “Not what I mean,  _ Rick. _ I'm talking ‘bout after your stupid…” He waved his hand in the air, still not looking up at me. “Crush shit ends. Don't want an  _ inbred _ fuckin stuff up.”

“Shane is an idiot. And so is his dad.” I moved closer to him, and flicked a finger at the ragged edges where his sleeves used to be. “There’s a reason Shane’s dad has never moved up in rank, you know. He couldn’t pour piss out of a boot that had instructions written on the heel.”

I could have sworn that I heard Daryl snort, but he kept his head down. His muscles tensed again, though it only gave me a better look at his biceps. Yeah. I think I'm crushing pretty hard.

“I don't... play well with others,” he muttered crossing his arms over his chest, only accenting his muscles even more.

“Maybe you just haven’t found anyone you really wanted to play with yet.” I bumped his shoulder with my own, and grinned at him. “Come on, Daryl. Give it a chance.”

Daryl looked over at me, his eyes still wary, but then he dipped his head. A single nod. As he met my eyes, a shy, hesitant smile grew on his face. Maybe it wasn't that blinding thing that had made me notice him at first, but it was just as real. And it was just for me.

**Author's Note:**

> This will not follow a specific scheduling, as this is just an exercise between Jerome and Lynna to get our creative juices flowing and we wanted to share it all with you! Enjoy!


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